romance – Kevin Trent Boswell

slurpishly

radial beams
smile sears through
the morass of tedious
normalcy

similar to a sizzling steak
on the grill in the backyard

good feelings spray out
like the water from a
rotating yard sprinkler

hand me a straw
and let me sip
this sugary cocktail
of swirling girlish charm

easy to drink

drunk on the polarity
of what she is
and what I am not

like a house of

like a game of
Jenga, or Operation

like the careful restructuring
of a house of cards

how to
delicately slide
the desired shape

out of its current position
and into the one
I choose?

it’s absolutely essential
to have a steady hand,
to avoid upsetting the harmony

must not startle,
or cause alarm

she is nestled ⠀
comfortably
into her little nook, ⠀
her home

if it is indeed possible that
she might be moved by me…

then I must proceed
ever so gently, deftly,
with the greatest
of charm and tact

otherwise, the whole structure
could come tumbling

down

one must be debonair,
unhurried, poised, skilled,
perhaps even a bit
devil-may-care

for a handler of cards,
the appeal of the card
is what strength she brings to his hand

does she make for a
weak pair of twos?

or does she complete his straight flush?

does she make him look and feel
like the winner of the game?

but the card herself,
she is far more impressed
by the manner in which
an adroit dealer is able to
adeptly and confidently ⠀
handle her

expertly positioning her
without her necessarily
noticing

she wants to feel
safely controlled,
lovingly held,
as a crowning
symbol of
fulfillment
and fruition

but if the Queen of Hearts
is yielding…

if she offers some assistance,
some small help
in wiggling her out
of that lonely position
between the Three of Clubs
and the Four of Spades,
then there’s hope

and I will keep that card
always

up under my sleeve,
right next to my skin

a proper beau

a dapper gentleman in a suit
a prowler lurking near
a kind fellow holding flowers
a sly devil in a trench coat

a maiden has no way of knowing

desiring yet fearing pursuit,
certain words she yearns to hear
to fall into charming powers
a request, a command, a careful note

a glowing smile is telling, showing

a callous beast who cheats and lies
or a happy tear brought by a lover
a spineless, cowering, simpering wimp
or a loyal man who inspires devotion

a rock, a champion to win her heart

someone bold, a little older, wise
a warrior to shield her and cover
caresses that make her weak and limp
to make forever more than a notion

if hurdles may be overcome at the start

Back in the Day

Back in the old days,
If a lady thought she fancied you,
She’d drop her handkerchief;
You were looking, and she knew

This signaled to a gentleman
“Sir, do come and flirt with me”
In returning it, his charm
(Or lack thereof) she could see

Supposedly, now a quick smile
Does what the hanky used to
But modern men know better,
There is no acceptable thing to do

One woman says, “Here is good,
“But never, ever, over there!”
But the next one will say the opposite;
So, men guess in despair

If you approach because she smiled,
She’ll say, “I was just being polite”
But suddenly, she’s uncomfortable,
And she’ll say, “That’s not right!”

If you cannot read her mind,
Then your head is made of rock
And unless you’re rich and famous,
You’ll be slandered on TikTok

But if you don’t take the risk,
Then she’ll feel like you rejected her
She’ll tell her friends you’re a coward
When you thought you respected her

A woman thinks she’s flirting
If she blushes, smiles, and fidgets
But if you want him to make a move,
Drop a hanky or your digits

For Want Of Her

May the eye of her needle
Be passed through by the camel
My beast is ready
And eager to ride⠀

May the comfort of her robes
Cover my animal
The temple of her refuge
Is warm inside⠀

May I sail my vessel
Into her power
And not be tossed
By her storm⠀

May I know the nectar
Of her flower
And be one with the flower
I will be the thorn